The car started, the taxi was dark, and you couldn’t see how Zhong Qingyang’s injury was now, and the wound on his forehead was still bleeding.
Xin Xiaoxiao stared at him, only to see that his forehead was shiny, it should be blood.
She raised her head and asked the driver in front, “Driver, do you have tissues in your car?”
“Yes.” The driver nodded and reached out and handed the tissue box to Xin Xiaoxiao. Xin Xiaoxiao quickly took out a large handful of paper and randomly wiped Zhong Qingyang’s forehead, and asked as he wiped: “Are you okay, can you still breathe? ?”
She didn’t even care at all in her tone, she was just asking like that.
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